Everything's Clearer in the Dark of Night
by Lightish Red
Summary: Jacqueline recalls her day and thinks about her life and future. Based off of the characters from PAXi's Young Blades television series.


Author's Note: I don't feel like Jacqueline gets enough credit in a lot of other fanfics. Sure, we all want to see her and d'Artagnan hook up, but too often we ignore what Jacqueline wants. This is my version of what goes on in her head at night. It's just a quick one scene, so enjoy!

**Everything's Clearer in the Dark of Night - Serious Thinking**

_Why doesn't he understand?_ Jacqueline thought, locking herself in her room for the night. She pulled off her uniform piece by piece until only her breeches and loose shirt remained. She folded each carefully, with a woman's precision.

She sighed as she went about her nightly routine—_lay out tomorrow's clothes, remove my binding, polish the blade, wash my face, change into night clothes, and blow out the candle before climbing into bed._

When the lights were out and she lay comfortably in her bed, Jacqueline's mind began to turn. She would see the day's events replay for her eyes only. At night, she could allow herself to think as a woman, as Jacqueline, instead of playing at being Jacques.

Tonight was especially troublesome. Only hours before she had been in another situation of peril with her three comrades. On a day off, they had decided to stop in the café for breakfast and roam the city for awhile. Not paying much attention to where they were going, so entertained they were in each other's company, a group of Cardinal's guards had surrounded them on a deserted back street.

Jacqueline turned over on her side as the images flashed across her closed eyelids. They had been outnumbered six to four. Ramon and Siroc took one each, which left d'Artagnan and Jacqueline battling double the opponents.

D'Artagnan had easily dispatched one, but was caught up with the second, the lieutenant of the group and an extraordinary swordsman that was giving him quite a run. Jacqueline, meanwhile, struggled with her two. Not able to isolate either, they were slowly forcing her back into a side alley.

At first it was an advantage; only one man could attack at a time in the enclosed space, so she was not working both sides. They continued to drive her backwards, however, and panic set on when her back hit the rough wall that now trapped her.

In a desperate move, she threw her body forward, knocking the closest guard into the man behind him. The first fell backwards, and Jacqueline quickly ran him through. She looked up to see his partner dart out of the alley back towards the fray.

Jacqueline crept out slowly, rapier leveled protectively before her. She could see Siroc and Ramon still working their challengers while d'Artagnan was wearing his down. She searched the square for her opponent and found him, his pistol cocked and aimed for her heart.

She threw herself sideways as he fired, her body screaming in protest as she hit the uneven cobblestone full force.

Hearing the shot, d'Artagnan quickly finished off his foe and charged the surprised shooter, killing him in one smooth stroke. He skidded over to Jacqueline, dropping his rapier as he turned her over, hands searching for the shot wound. "Oh, God," he whispered.

"Watch your hands," Jacqueline had growled halfheartedly, blinking the little white spots from her vision. Her head throbbed.

"Jacqueline, I thought—"

"Yes, I know. I'm fine," she tried to reassure him as she sat up, brushing dirt off her side. D'Artagnan still seemed shaken but did not push the matter because Ramon and Siroc were hurrying over.

"You alright, mi amigo?" Ramon asked stepping up. Siroc arrived a step behind.

"Very well, thank you. How are you feeling?" she grinned and accepted d'Artagnan's hand to pull her up.

"I think we've had enough excitement today," d'Artagnan stated with a meaningful look at Jacqueline. She ignored him.

"Back to the garrison?" Siroc asked hopefully. _No doubt he has some experiment waiting,_ Jacqueline thought, nodding her head in agreement with the others.

Jacqueline rolled onto her back, seeing another scene play before her. She stretched her sore side and focused in.

Siroc and Ramon filed into the laboratory, and before Jacqueline could follow, d'Artagnan gripped her arm. "Come with me, Jacques."

He led her three doors down. Inside the third was an empty bed and four bare walls; it was obviously an empty musketeer room. She turned to face him, but he was busy latching the door securely. "What's this all about?" Jacqueline asked defensively.

"Jacqueline, I realized something today," he crossed the room to stand within inches of her. "You were almost hurt. You might have died." He accented the 'died.'

"But I didn't," she replied firmly, not wanting to have a discussion on her 'feminine weakness.'

"Jacqueline, it would take only a misplaced wound to reveal your secret. This is getting too dangerous…" he trailed off.

"Why is it all of the sudden 'too dangerous?' I could have easily been hurt anytime, and you never cared before," she studied his face. "Somehow I don't believe this is really about me getting hurt."

D'Artagnan brought up marriage again. What a beautiful picture he had painted; a small estate by the sea, gardens, pastureland, children playing in the yard. At one point, Jacqueline might have accepted his offer in a split second. But now, everything was too complicated for such an easy solution, and she had to refuse him again.

No matter what the difficulty, Jacqueline loved being a musketeer. She derived a certain satisfaction in serving her young King; she could not abandon Louis to Mazarin. Anyway, could she ever leave before clearing her name? Even running off with d'Artagnan ran the risk of someone recognizing her and turning her in. Would the d'Artagnan name be able to protect her from that?

Jacqueline shifted again in her bed, uncomfortable with that thought. After she cleared her name (_if there will ever be an after_), what would she do: return to being a woman, or continue playing as a man? In another life, Jacqueline had wanted to settle down as a wife and mother, but now she saw skirts as a sign of vulnerability. Charles and d'Artagnan treated her differently when she was in a dress. Could she accept the fact that there were two Jacquelines—one in a dress and one in pants?

Being a man did give her more freedoms. She could walk down the street without fear, carry a weapon openly and unashamedly. She received respect for her swordsmanship instead of sympathy for the poor reason of her sex. But could she play this game forever?

Jacqueline now began to doze. Serious thinking required serious rest. There would be other times to reflect; although, everything seemed clearer in the dark of night.


End file.
